


third's the charm

by Ushio



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Awkward Kissing, Cats, M/M, Otabek takes care of Yuri (sorta), Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, several cats - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ushio/pseuds/Ushio
Summary: "Did we just kiss?""Sort of. I think.""Man, thatsucked."It was rather different than how he had imagined it would happen.[Sick!Yurio gets a visit from Otabek. Fluff ensues.]





	third's the charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isisshine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isisshine/gifts).



> this is a small gift for a dear friend <3\. she gave me the prompt "an awkward kiss" and since i've been sick on and off for the past month, this is the first thing that came to mind. man i /wish/ there was someone kissing me every time i had a fever. that'd be the life.
> 
> i hope you enjoy it ~~

Someone's touching his forehead with a gentleness he has not felt since his mother died. They stroke his hair softly, wiping with the tips of their fingertips the small beads of sweat at his hairline. There is a slow, constant pace to their caresses, back and forth. It is, in fact, so similar to his late mother's gentleness that Yuri allows himself for one moment the brief, hopeful thought that it may _be_ her. Somehow, impossibly so, he can imagine her kneeling by his bed, tall and blonde and pale — like a faceless daffodil. He will never say this out loud (can barely say it to himself, in the depths of his own heart) but he has forgotten how her face looked like. Photos don't make her justice. They don't look like she did. The precise curve of her mouth, the exact slant of her eyes it's lost — forever. But he can feel her now, petting him, and he can almost smell her perfume and hear her voice. He leans into her touch and smiles when the hand moves, stroking his cheekbones and cupping his face. He feels safe. He feels — at home.

He calls her name and when she answers, she does so with Otabek's voice.

"Yuri," he says, "are you okay?"

Yuri opens his eyes at once, startled, and blinks owlishly at his friend's blank stare. Otabek is sitting on the floor next to his bed, as his own mother had done, but that is where all similitude end. Yuri realizes through a feverish haze that Otabek's fingertips are calloused in a way his mother were not, and that his hand is considerably bigger. He also realizes what all of this means and feels himself blush, light-headed with embarrassment. Otabek seems mostly unaffected but there's a light hint of color in his cheeks. A moment of silence stretches between them and then, they speak at once:

"I was only checking if you had a temperature."

"What are you doing here?"

They lock eyes again and then Yuri remembers the content, soft feeling inside his heart and turns his head away. He sinks even deeper in the bed, making himself smaller beneath the covers. He feels too exhausted to be angry but a slight irritation curses through him — who the fuck allowed Otabek inside his room? And why did he even come in the first place? It's embarrassing enough as it is, to have fallen ill so close to the Europeans and he'd rather be swallowed by the earth than to hear from another person _(Viktor)_ yet again how silly it was of him to take such a poor care of his health—

"I came to keep you company, if you want it. I thought you would feel lonely" Otabek says, with his usual seriousness, and yet Yuri detects a slight hint of worry in the way his mouth is set. He's probably concerned about bothering him; about being a nuisance. Otabek is like that. He is polite and respectful and keeps close attention to people's boundaries. He never over-steps. He doesn't do rude. Perhaps this is why they get along so well — they balance something in each other.

Yuri takes a deep breath and pushes aside the presence of his mother's ghost. It's been so long... and yet.

"It's okay," Yuri says, averting his gaze. He knows he sounds rather snappish but his throat hurts like hell and he's so tired—

"Do you want some water?"

"... Please."

Otabek understands. As always.

When he returns from the kitchen with a glass, Yuri smiles at him through the pain and Otabek smiles back, warmly. He takes the water, sitting up slowly to take small sips from it. All of his muscles burn with pain and just this little movement it's excruciating. This is why he hates fevers. They make him feel weak and frail; as if all of the power he usually holds on the rink is nothing but smoke. But there is nothing to be done — he can only wait. When he is done drinking, Otabek places the glass on a low table and Yuri lies back again. The painkillers faded off some time ago and he needs a new dose. His head feels dizzy.

Then he feels Otabek hand on the edge of the bed because the mattress dips slightly. He turns his head to him, quirking an eyebrow, and Otabek looks away.

"I just want you to feel better. I..." Otabek doesn't finish the sentence but he doesn't have to. He's asking for permission to pet him again.

Yuri blushes a deep-crimson. He doesn't know whether to feel pleased or embarrassed. Maybe a bit of both?

"B-but... you'll get sick if you keep touching me."

"I don't mind."

" _Beka_ ," he pleads, but he doesn't know what he is pleading him to do. Move closer or scoot away?

"I just thought... you said your mother's name. Before. When I feel sick she is the one who takes care of me and I wouldn't mind taking care of you" Otabek says, slowly, because that it's just how he talks: measurely, fastidiously placing every word so they always make sense. (Mind you, these are a lot more words than his usual fare).

Yuri's retort is rather gruff:

"Don't you think it's weird? Comparing yourself to my mother?"

Otabek says nothing but he answers all the same. The answer is right there in his eyes: _we both love you, don't we?_

They both know. They know the other knows. They have known for years. And yet, no-one gives the first step and they are stuck in this weird, never ending standstill, two feet from one-another but never close enough to reach. Perhaps it's time to close that gap. Yuri moves his right hand out of under the covers and touches Otabek's arm. He gazes at him with heavy lids and then closes them for a bit. He's been napping all day but he doesn't have the strength for much more. A brief moment of silence and then — Otabek's fingers are stroking his face again, softly, gently, and Yuri relishes in his touch. He feels the bed dip when Otabek sits right next to him and Yuri moves closer to the wall so he can have some space. The cat sleeping at his feet awakes with a grunt and also moves sleepily against his toes.

"Is there a cat under your blanket?" Otabek asks. His voice sounds very far away.

"Hmm. There are two."

"Of course there are."

After a while, Otabek is no longer sitting but lying on his side. His fingers caress his forehead, his mated, sweaty, dirty, feverish hair — there are few things Yuri hates more than fever-hair. His fingers travel across his nose, his closed lids, his lips and his jaw. It should be annoying but Yuri has never felt more comfortable in his entire life. That feeling, the same as before, spreads in his veins and warms his whole body in a way the fever does not. Fever burns him but this? This is like the first ray of sun on a summer day; this feels like hot pies and warm baths and fluffy blankets. This heat is sweet and careful and controlled. He feels molten.

He sleeps.

He awakes, much later, when the sun is down and the room is dark. Someone has turned off the lights. Lilia, maybe? Yuri can feel the darkness without opening his eyes and he moves a bit, trying to disentangle himself from Otabek's arm resting at his waist. Then, when he moves his head, their lips meet. Yuri and Otabek open their eyes at the same time, wide with shock, but neither of them move. Their lips remain locked, in the most sweet, awkward, weird first kiss he could have possibly had. Finally, one the cats move between their bodies and Otabek pulls away.

Yuri licks his lips, wondering.

"Did we just kiss?"

"Sort of. I think."

"Man, that _sucked_."

It was rather different than how he had imagined it would happen.

Otabek let's out a huff of a laugh and his whole face softens. Yuri reaches for him the dark and kisses him again, drinking his laughter right out of his mouth. His lips are soft and wet. His breath doesn't smell too terrible. He feels nervous, afraid, completely sure that he is doing something wrong, and then Otabek responds accordingly and for a moment it is perfect — just as he had hoped. They click together. They fit. Seamlessly. Otabek moves closer to him grabbing him by the waist and then—

"Ow!" he says, jerking his head and bumping their foreheads. Yuri bites his lip without realizing to the point of drawing out blood. An angry meow emerges from under the blanket and Yuri pushes it away to free Tiger from his fluffy cage. His cat jumps out of he bed in a angry puff and starts attacking his sneakers.

Otabek touches his savaged lip tentatively.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, are you okay?" he asks, mortified. Otabek nods.

"Yeah, yeah, sorry... I just stepped on your other cat, I think? And he scratched me..."

"Fuck, Beka, I'm..."

"No. It's okay. It was good. It was very good. Cat scratch included."

There's an awkward pause and then they break out laughing.

The third kiss breaks the fever away.

 


End file.
